


I'm a Little Bit Lost Without You

by TheBlueshiftNebula



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Caretaking, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Matt is the real MVP, Mutual Pining, Sick Shiro (Voltron), Sickfic, dumbasses in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-10 13:47:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19906690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlueshiftNebula/pseuds/TheBlueshiftNebula
Summary: Keith has loved Shiro for as long as he's known him, back when they were both undergrads. Shiro, now a full time Master's student, feels the same way. Unfortunately, neither of them realize it.When Shiro gets sick a week before an important deadline, he's determined to push through it. Keith, with more than a little help from Matt, is there to help.And maybe, just maybe, they'll figure out their feelings in the process.





	I'm a Little Bit Lost Without You

**Author's Note:**

> Hey it's me again with yet another s i c k f i c
> 
> This is my first "official" Voltron fic, so of course it's a sickfic.
> 
> GIANT shoutout to my two beautiful, amazing betas, Yu and [Mumblingcanadian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mumblingcanadian), who have stuck with me through all the yelling and complaing of every stage of this fic. This wouldn't exist without both of you cheering me on <3
> 
> [Warnings at the end](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19906690#work_endnotes)

Keith stabbed the mangled remains of his lunch, trying to find the will to eat it. Why did he always end up ordering the mashed potatoes from the cafeteria when he never ate them all? They were always the first thing to go cold, which turned them into an inedible paste. It was a waste, honestly. He sighed, chin resting on his palm as he continued to poke and prod at his food.

Not for the first time that afternoon, Keith looked up to stare wistfully at the door to the school cafeteria as subtly as he could. It was definitely pure chance that had him sitting facing the door, even if it did mean sitting next to Lance. He definitely hadn't subtly maneuvered himself to sit facing the only entrance to the spacious cafeteria. 

"You know, staring at the door won't make Shiro show up."

The comment jolted Keith out of his thoughts, turning to face Pidge from across the table. "I wasn't staring," he said flatly, trying to keep his face neutral.

Pidge smirked at him, leaning back in the cheap plastic chair. She raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh yeah? Then why were you looking like you're waiting for your husband to return from the war?"

The heat on his cheeks surged. "What does that even mean?"

Nudging Hunk on her left, Pidge turned to him."Come on, back me up here."

Hunk looked up from his own lunch—brought from home, of course; the slop they served at the university's cafeteria would never measure up to his own standards—and blinked in confusion. "What are we talking about?"

"Keith looking like a forlorn wife."

"Oh." Hunk smiled apologetically at Keith. "Yeah, sorry dude, but you totally do."

Sighing dramatically, Pidge draped herself over Hunk's lap. "Oh Shiro, when will you return to me?" She pitched her voice a little lower in a clear imitation of Keith. "It has been so many long days without you...how will I go on?" She flung an arm over her face, sighing so loudly this time that the people a few tables over shot them concerned looks. Hunk clapped a hand over his mouth to try to contain his laughter, his shoulders shaking. Keith crossed his arms and looked away, his whole face on fire.

"What? What are we laughing about?" Lance finally looked up from his phone, taking in the scene around him.

"We're making fun of Keith's abandonment issues," Pidge replied, still sprawled across Hunk's lap.

" _What!"_ Lance squawked, shoving his phone in his pocket. "How could you leave me out of that? You know making fun of Keith is like, in my top five list of pastimes."

Pidge huffed, finally sitting up. "Maybe if you weren't so busy texting _Allura_ , you'd be in on the joke."

It was Lance's turn to sputter, turning his nose up at her comment. "I'll have you _know_ that we're talking about _school things_. She was asking for help on something."

Pidge scoffed. "Uh, sure she was."

Lance turned back to face her, indignant. "Why is that so hard to believe?"

Hunk shot him a look. "Uh, because she's in a totally different program than us?" he replied. "And she's doing her PhD? I seriously doubt there's anything you could be helping her with."

Lance groaned, resting his head on the table. "Alright, fine. I'm trying to figure out how to ask her out. Happy?"

Keith frowned. "Can't you just....ask her?" he said, not understanding the issue.

" _Ugh_ , no, I can't _just ask her_ , obviously." Lance turned to Keith without lifting his head from the table. That had to be anything but sanitary. "Besides, why would I take romance advice from _you?_ You're so hopeless it's not even funny."

"Whatever," Keith muttered, pulling out his phone. "Why do I even hang out with any of you?"

"Because you love us," Pidge chimed in. "And because I'm the best roommate ever, obviously."

Keith scowled, opting to check his phone rather than dignify that with a response. Unlocking his phone, he immediately opened his messages. Nothing new since this morning, when Pidge was asking if they were out of cereal (they were) and if Keith could pick some up after class (he would). Seeing as Pidge was still in first year, her classes were all in the worst time slots, so the weekly grocery run often fell to Keith. He didn't mind, though. Despite having a heavier workload, his fourth year schedule was slightly more relaxed when it came to actual class time. It also helped that professor Coran cancelled class every other week because of things like some crazy phenomenon with Venus and Mercury that he absolutely _could not_ miss.

Keith couldn't help the way his mouth twisted when he saw there were no new messages from Shiro. The last one was from last night, when Shiro said he was going to bed. The timestamp on the message read 9:47 pm, which was....early, to say the least. Shiro was someone who seemed to survive on little to no sleep on a daily basis, often saying goodnight to Keith at 2am and then greeting him with a cheery _Good morning!_ at 6am. So it was unusual to not have heard from him by now. Keith hadn't seen him much lately—Shiro didn't always need to be on campus, and his schedule was fairly erratic. Being three quarters through his Master's degree, it was less structured and more "get shit done whenever it needed to be done." It usually alternated between working with Dr. Holt, his thesis adviser, and increasingly intense amounts of research.

Despite their growing workloads, they still managed to talk pretty much every day. And though Keith would never admit it out loud, seeing notifications from Shiro on his phone never failed to make his heart beat a little faster, bringing an instant smile to his face. They were the highlight of his day.

To not have heard from him by now was....odd. It made Keith a little uneasy and more than a little depressed.

Scowling, he shoved his phone back into his pocket. He was being stupid. So what if Shiro was too busy to talk to him? It was _fine_.

Looking up, he caught Pidge's eye again. The look she gave him was somewhere between amusement and pity. She rested her chin on her steepled hands, elbows on the table. "Shiro probably won't be here today either, if that's what you're wondering. But you could, you know, just _ask_ him where he is."

Keith made a face. "And how would _you_ know?"

"Uh, my brother lives with him?"

"Besides, Keith," Lance said sarcastically, getting in his face, "why don't you _just ask him?_ " Keith just shoved him away, making a noise of disgust.

Pidge snorted a laugh at the scene. "Anyway, yeah, I doubt he'll be coming in any time soon. Matt told me he's sick."

Keith moved away from Lance, straightening in his seat. "Sick?" he repeated dumbly. Anxiety suddenly spiked in his chest. Shiro was sick?

"Oh my god," Hunk said, not quite hiding his smile. "Did you see that? His whole body language changed. Oh man, dude, you have it _bad_."

Keith wasn't paying attention. He was too busy pulling out his phone again, scrolling through the messages from the previous days, analyzing them with this new information. At no point had Shiro given any indication that anything was wrong, other than the usual stress of an upcoming deadline. Keith frowned down at his phone, looking at the timestamps from the past few nights. Shiro's messages of _Goodnight :)_ did come earlier and earlier, now that he was looking. The answers were shorter, too, and there was a longer delay between messages.

"Damn it, Shiro," he murmured to himself. Keith knew Shiro had a tendency to forget to take care of himself. Why hadn't he said anything? He huffed out a frustrated breath; he should have kept a better eye on him.

Next to him, Lance suddenly sucked in a sharp breath. Keith didn't react until Lance jabbed him sharply in the side with his elbow. Keith scowled over at him, but blinked when he saw the grimace on Lance's face.

"You wanted to be a mother hen, right?" Lance said quietly. "Well...now's your chance."

Keith was so, so confused, not to mention a little insulted, until he looked over at the entrance to the cafeteria to see a familiar figure step through.

His initial reaction was relief; it had been a few days since they'd seen each other, but Keith found himself relaxing at the sight of Shiro.

That is, until he took a good look at him.

Despite the mild weather, Shiro was wearing a pale hoodie, with a dark brown beanie covering his head. Keith couldn't remember the last time he saw Shiro wear a hat. His bag was slung across one shoulder, half falling off, but it didn't seem like he noticed. He was standing slightly hunched in on himself, like he could barely stay upright.

But the most concerning part was the black face mask covering his mouth and nose.

Judging by the sudden silence that had fallen over their group, the others had seen him too.

Slowly, Shiro picked his way through the cafeteria, making his way toward them. His movements were sluggish, and Keith's concern only magnified as he watched.

By the time Shiro made it to their table, Keith saw the dark circles ringing his eyes and the red flush peeking out from under the mask. Shiro pulled back the chair next to Hunk and all but collapsed into it, dropping his bag in a heap on the floor.

"Hey," he greeted them, and Keith nearly winced at the sound of his voice. He sounded _awful_. His voice was shredded, like he had swallowed glass.

They were all watching him silently, and Shiro frowned a bit. "What?" he asked, sounding self conscious now.

"Dude," Lance said, finally breaking the tense silence. "Are you ok?"

Shiro frowned, making an effort to sit up straighter in his seat. "I'm fine," he said defensively.

"Uh, yeah, no you're not." Hunk looked him over critically. "No offense, man, but you look...kind of terrible. What are you even doing here?"

Shiro visibly deflated. "I'm sorry," he rasped, voice going even weaker. He turned away, starting to get up and grabbing his bag in the process. "I can go. I don't want any of you to catch this."

"Whoa, hang on." Hunk's large hand clamped down on Shiro's shoulder, easing him back into the chair. "I didn't mean it like that. You just....you seem pretty sick, Shiro. Are you ok?"

Letting his bag fall back to the floor, Shiro ducked his head, clearly a little embarrassed. "Sorry," he muttered quietly. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, closing his eyes and rubbing under them. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't have to be, trust me."

Keith felt the anxiety return, eating a hole in his stomach. "So why are you here?" he asked, the words coming out harsher than he intended. But really, shouldn't Shiro be at home? Hunk was right: he looked pretty bad.

Shiro's eyes snapped open, turning to face Keith head on for the first time. Keith noticed how glazed his eyes were. "Matt broke the router in our apartment. I need the wifi in the library to work." He sniffled wetly, rubbing the palm of his natural hand over his nose through the mask. It would be endearing if he didn't look so...well, sick. Keith couldn't even appreciate how damn good that stupid beanie looked on him, not when he looked so miserable.

Pidge snorted. "Oh man, he _broke_ the router? How?"

Shiro groaned softly. "I don't even know...I left him alone for maybe ten minutes. He was trying to upgrade it? Or update it?" He turned away to cough, clearing his throat after. "I don't know, there's a reason I never took computer science."

Pidge chuckled. "Yeah, he gets a little crazy near the end of the semester."

Slumping back into his seat, Shiro pulled out his phone from his jean pocket. "Why did he have to mess with it _now?"_ he grumbled sullenly.

"When is your thesis due?" Keith asked. He'd long since given up trying to remember how Shiro's schedule worked.

"Not for a while," Shiro replied, sniffling again. "But the first draft is due next week. I still have so much to do."

Keith's pelt a pang of sympathy for him. Having a looming deadline was enough of a burden; getting sick on top of that was the absolute worst. Would Shiro really be ok...?

The conversation soon turned towards everyone else's schoolwork. Pidge had an exam coming up, Hunk had a final project, and Lance had at least two essays due in an alarmingly short time, seeing as he'd started neither of them.

"Maybe you can get _Allura_ to help you," Pidge said smugly. "You know, seeing as the two of you help each other so often."

Lance brightened at her words. "Oh man, yes! That's a great idea." He was already pulling out his phone, typing furiously. "You're a genius, Pidge."

Pidge rolled her eyes, her sarcasm going completely over Lance's head. "Obviously."

The last thing Keith wanted to focus on was his own upcoming deadlines—he had a few final papers of his own that he really didn't want to think about—so he busied himself with sneaking glances at Shiro.

Still slumped in his seat, Shiro flicked lethargically through his phone. His eyes were half lidded, and Keith could now see quite clearly how dark the rings around them were. He looked about ready to nod off right there.

An image popped into Keith's head, unbidden, of wrapping a blanket around Shiro, tucking him sweetly into bed with the promise of tea and a hot water bottle. The mere idea nearly made Keith flush with embarrassment all over again. Where did these dumb, domestic ideas even come from? It had never been something Keith had been interested in before.

Until Shiro, that is. Now, though he would never admit it, Keith wanted _all_ those dumb domestic things with him.

At one point, Keith glanced over to see Shiro looking in his direction. Keith looked away quickly, thinking he'd been caught staring, but noticed that Shiro's gaze was unfocused, eyes narrowed and breathing going choppy. Keith opened his mouth, about to ask if he was ok, when Shiro's eyes squeezed shut, and he whipped his head to the side to sneeze into the mask.

Keith did wince this time. The sneeze sounded like it tore through his already tender throat, and Shiro made a noise of disgust. Pushing his chair back, he silently got up and left as quickly as he could. To the bathroom, Keith assumed, since he'd left his bag behind.

Once he was out of earshot, Hunk spoke up. "Is he really gonna be ok? He sounds pretty bad."

Just then, Keith's phone vibrated in his pocket. Taking it out, he saw it was a message from Matt, of all people.

_can u keep an eye on shiro today_

Keith frowned down at his phone. _Why, whats up_ , he typed back.

The response was nearly immediate.

_are you fucking blind_

_he's sick_

_and has The Mask_ ™

_u know what that means as well as i do_

Keith sighed. Matt was a good guy, and a good roommate according to Shiro, but texting him was the absolute worst sometimes. Couldn't he have sent all that one in message...?

But yes, Keith knew what The Mask™ meant. He'd only seen Shiro wearing it once before, during finals week when he was still an undergrad and had the flu. It was apparently a custom in Japan to wear a face mask when you were sick. But now that he was away from his home country, Shiro usually reserved it for emergencies.

_How long has he been sick_ , Keith asked. The guilt at not noticing flared up again in his chest.

_um_

A pause.

_like_

Another pause.

_2 weeks?_

Keith's eyes widened down at his phone. _Two weeks?_ But Keith had _seen_ Shiro at least once these past weeks. Was he sick then too?

Wracking his brain, Keith thought back to the last time they met up. Had anything seemed off? Sure, Shiro seemed a little more tired than normal, a little quieter, but Keith had chalked it up to the stress over his thesis. After all, Keith was no stranger to the way it piled up at the end of a semester. And Shiro had always been there to help him through it—to help him see how to manage his workload, how to break it down into smaller pieces that were easier to deal with.

Had Keith been so wrapped up in his own problems and stress that he had totally missed Shiro's....?

The thought made Keith's stomach churn. When he failed to respond to Matt immediately, his phone started buzzing incessantly again.

_look can you just keep an eye on him_

_it's been nearly 2 weeks and he's not getting better_

_so just make sure he doesn't die or smth_

The words _not getting better_ jumped out at Keith. He knew Shiro didn't sleep enough as it was—god knows none of them did, honestly—but this was starting to seem more serious.

So when Keith typed out _I'll look after him_ , he meant it.

The reply came instantly, again.

_i knew you would lol thx_

_and do NOT buy him any coffee!!!_

_i know all it takes is one look from his big dumb puppy eyes and youll do anything for him but_ —

Keith couldn't help but scoff out loud, shoving the phone back into his pocket without reading the rest. _Puppy eyes._ Honestly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Pidge look over questioningly. Keith couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Your brother is an idiot."

Pidge's eyebrows rose in surprise "You're texting Matt? Why?"

Normally Keith would just hand his phone over and let Pidge read the texts herself—it was her brother, after all, and she would just hear it from him in the end—but something about their conversation felt...strangely private, this time. Maybe because they were talking about Shiro in his current, more vulnerable state. Maybe just because they were talking about Shiro at all.

Maybe because his hopeless crush on Shiro was so disgustingly, painfully obvious that Matt had called him out on it.

Luckily, he was saved from answering when Shiro made his return, scraping his chair back and plopping down into it. The mask was sitting a little askew on his face, and Keith resisted the urge to reach across the table and fix it.

"How are you feeling?" Keith said, realizing it was the first time he'd asked since Shiro showed up. He was fucking this up at every turn, it seemed.

Shiro slumped down in his seat again, not quite meeting Keith's eyes. "I'll be fine," he said, though his voice indicated otherwise.

The group had gone silent again at his return, though Shiro didn't seem to notice this time. He rubbed his temple with his natural hand, like it hurt, while taking his phone out again with the metal one.

This time it was Hunk who broke the silence. "Do you at least have something to eat, Shiro?" He sounded as concerned as Keith felt.

"Hm? Oh." Shiro set his phone down and dug into his bag, pulling out a box. "Yeah, Matt made me lunch. I completely forgot."

Pidge chuckled. "Matt made you _food?_ "

Shiro sniffled pitifully. "He banned me from the kitchen again...."

" _Again?"_ Lance repeated, barely hiding his amusement. Shiro's cooking skills—or rather, the complete lack thereof—were notorious among them, and so it made perfect sense that Matt would want to preserve what small cooking space they had.

But Shiro just shrugged. "He told me not to contaminate the apartment any more than I already have." It was hard to tell, but Keith thought the tips of his ears were turning pink, and he wouldn't meet any of their eyes.

Pidge couldn't help but bark a laugh. "Yeah, that's Matt for you." Her expression turned a little more sympathetic as Shiro started to cough again, turning away from the group and attempting to smother it into his fist. "It does suck that you're sick, though. Sorry Matt isn't a very good nurse."

"It's not his fault," Shiro protested once he'd recovered, voice sounding even worse after the fit, somehow. "He's just as busy as I am. I don't want him to get sick either."

Keith resisted the urge to roll his eyes again. Worried about everyone but himself. Typical Shiro. His self sacrificing bullshit was going to drive Keith to an early grave.

Hunk leaned over into Shiro's space. "So, what did Matt end up making you?" he asked, in a less than subtle attempt to change the subject.

Looking back down at the still unopened box, Shiro blinked tiredly at it. "I honestly don't know," he replied. "Matt just sort of...shoved it at me on my way out."

The box was small and sleek, painted a beige colour with some kind of cartoon animal on it. Was it from a movie, maybe? Keith didn't recognize it.

Shiro gently opened the lid, revealing a delicate array of carefully placed items. There was rice arranged in the first half of the box, with what looked like slightly lopsided panda faces drawn in it. The other half was split into two compartments, with one containing small sausages cut up to look like octopus, and the other with a little assortment of neatly arranged vegetables.

"Oh," Shiro breathed out gently, looking down at the bento box. "Matt..."

Keith couldn't help but raise his eyebrows at the food. A small pang of guilt went through him at his earlier annoyance at Matt. Maybe he didn't deserve it after all.

"Awwwww wow!" Hunk cooed, smiling widely at the box. "That's adorable. I didn't know Matt did stuff like this."

Pidge scoffed. "He doesn't. Not usually, at least."

With a slightly shaking hand, Shiro pulled down the black mask, rubbing a hand over the now exposed area. Any lingering annoyance at Matt dissipated instantly as Keith took in the sight of Shiro's uncovered face. If he thought he looked awful before, it was nothing compared to what Keith was seeing now.

Shiro was ghostly pale, which Keith had gathered from before, but it made the flush across his nose and cheeks stand out that much more prominently. His scar was practically invisible under the flush, and the skin around his nose was chapped and irritated looking. The dark rings around his eyes looked less like circles and more like bruises.

"Dude..." Lance started, only to stop when he got an elbow to the side from Keith. Clearly Shiro didn't want everyone piling on him about his health, even if that's exactly what they wanted to do.

Unfortunately, Hunk was not within elbowing distance. "Are you _sure_ you're ok, Shiro?" he asked softly, all concern this time.

Shiro huffed a bit, though his shoulders slumped under the scrutiny. "I'll be fine," he said again.

Keith wasn't any closer to believing him.

"Uh, Keith?" Pidge piped up suddenly. "Don't you have class in like.....now?"

"What?" Keith whipped out his phone, eyes widening when he saw the time. "Oh _shit_."

" _Language,_ " Lance said mockingly as Keith hurriedly scooped up his things. He didn't even spare him a glance as he stood, grabbing his bag with one hand and his mostly empty tray with the other.

"See you guys later," he said quickly, stepping away from the table. He stopped for a split second as he glanced as Shiro one last time. He was finally eating something, though slowly. He raised his free hand to wave him goodbye, and Keith couldn't help but smile at him. Shiro's cheeks flared a deeper red at the gesture.

Keith hurried out of the cafeteria as quickly as he could without running, dumping his tray on his way out. This was his last class of the day, though it was a long one. He couldn't help but wonder if Shiro would still be around when he was done.

_Well_ , Keith thought, _someone needs to look after him_.

His heart soared at the thought.

* * *

Shiro turned the brightness down on his computer as far as it would go, hoping it would help minimize the growing headache behind his eyes. _God_ , he just wanted this to write itself. Of course Matt would mess around with the router now, just as he was feeling the worst he had in the past two weeks.

He shut his eyes, rubbing his throbbing temples as the headache pounded in time with his pulse. The fluorescent lights in the library weren't helping, and even though it was the quietest part of the campus, the constant hum of activity felt like constant spikes being drilled into his head.

It was only a cold, but he'd never had a cold that was this bad for this long. Sure, he'd sometimes get sick for longer than average—thanks a lot, nose scar—but this was the first time in recent memory that he'd been _this_ sick for this long. The worst part so far was a grating cough that had started up a few days ago and made no indication of going away anytime soon. It had gotten bad enough for Shiro to finally break out his flu mask, something he hadn't needed in years. Shiro was just so sick of being sick.

Just thinking about it was making him feel worse, and the ever present tickle in his throat had him hunched over his laptop as he coughed. Despite all efforts to smother the sound, it rang through the library, the sound harsh and wet even to his own ears. By the time it settled, his eyes were watering. _Fuck_ , he just wanted to go home. But this damn thesis was due soon, and regardless of his wish, it wasn't actually going to write itself. He eyed the coffee cup next to his laptop, still half full, but stone cold by now. He'd lost track of the amount of coffee he'd had in the past twenty four hours alone trying to plow through this paper, but he knew the amounts were anything but healthy.

The sound of a chair being pulled back next to him made Shiro jump, looking over in surprise. Everyone else in the library had given him a wide berth, not that he could blame them. It was part of the reason he'd picked the most secluded area of the library. The idea of anyone willingly sitting near him was surprising to say the least.

Looking over, though, Shiro saw it was Keith who was settling into the chair next to him.

Oh, god.

Stretching his arms over his head, Keith made a satisfied noise as his shoulder audibly clicked. His shirt rode up just slightly, and Shiro belatedly realized he was staring. He managed to tear his eyes away, albeit reluctantly, as Keith leaned forward with his elbows on the table. "Last class of the day always feels the longest," he remarked casually.

Shiro just made a soft noise of assent, not quite trusting his abused throat. As much as he liked Keith—and he really, really liked him—Shiro was hoping not to run into him again today. It was bad enough Keith had seen him be absolutely disgusting in the cafeteria, but he had to see him in the library too...?

Really, Shiro thought, he shouldn't have gone to the cafeteria at all, knowing his friends would be there. But muscle memory drove his tired body to the place where they usually gathered during lunch time, and he hadn't really realized his mistake until he'd sat down. Still, the others didn't seem too bothered by his cold-ridden presence, so Shiro was trying not to think about it too much.

Keith eyed him warily as Shiro clicked through another article on his computer. "How are you doing?" he asked, eyes roaming over his face.

Shiro shrugged as casually as he could, not trusting his voice to lie for him convincingly. Truth be told, Shiro felt like reheated garbage, but there was no reason Keith needed to know that.

Unfortunately, Keith didn't seem satisfied with Shiro's bullshit today. "Seriously," he pressed, "are you alright? Feeling any better?"

"I'm ok," Shiro responded automatically, but the tickle in his throat flared again and he found himself turning as far away from Keith as possible to cough, the sound wet and deep. He could practically feel this cold settling in his chest, and he pressed his metal hand against the fabric of the mask to try to muffle the awful hacking sound.

A warm hand gently touched his back, rubbing soothing circles as he worked through the fit. By the time he was done, his breathing sounded more like wheezing.

"Geez, Shiro," Keith said softly, taking his hand back as Shiro straightened in his seat. "That cough sounds bad. You should really go home."

Embarrassment flooded through Shiro again. How many rooms on this campus was he going to humiliate himself in before the day was over?

Looking over at Keith, though, he didn't see disgust, or annoyance. Just tender concern. Shiro had the sudden urge to lay his head in Keith's lap. How good would it feel, to have those warm hands run through his hair as he slept....

He mentally chastised himself for the thought. He and Keith were _friends_ , nothing more. His crush on Keith was silly; he couldn't tell when, in the three years they'd known each other, his affection for Keith had developed into...something more. Back when Keith was a struggling first year and Shiro was about to graduate, he remembered late night tutoring and early morning studying sessions. When, exactly, had this shift in Shiro's feelings happened...?

Well, it didn't matter now. Shiro wasn't planning on nuking their friendship because of his inability to keep his feelings to himself.

At the moment, though, he would have given anything to erase the look of concern Keith was wearing.

"Sorry," he rasped, finally bringing his traitorous body under control. He sniffled as quietly as he could, the coughing having made his abused nose run. "I'm ok, really."

Keith arched an eyebrow. "Really? Because you sound like shit."

Shiro couldn't help but flinch a bit, the blunt tone rendering his excuses useless. "It's just a cold. It'll pass."

"Might help if you actually _slept_ at some point?" Keith said dryly.

"I sleep," Shiro said defensively.

"Sure you do," Keith said, not convinced in the slightest. "Look, can I at least get you something to drink? You need to stay hydrated."

Shiro heard the word _drink_ and immediately made the connection to _caffeine_. God, he would need it if he wanted to make it through the next few pages of this article. "That would be amazing, Keith. Thank you."

Keith blinked, then ducked his head, the beginnings of a blush dusting his cheeks. _Adorable_. "Y-yeah, sure. No problem. What do you want?"

"Can you get me a coffee?" Shiro asked, already digging for his wallet. When he looked up, he saw Keith's blush was replaced by a grimace.

"I, uh....don't think that's a good idea," Keith said hesitantly. "Remember what I just said about _sleep?"_

Shiro couldn't help but groan hoarsely. "I'll sleep later. Right now I have work to do, and I'm not gonna make it at this rate."

"When I said you needed to stay hydrated, I didn't mean _coffee_." Keith shook his head, mouth still twisted unhappily. "How about we compromise: I'll get you a tea? There's usually...some caffeine in tea, right?"

Shiro felt his headache flare again, and he winced slightly. Clearly Keith wasn't going to budge on this, and while Shiro could theoretically go get himself more coffee, he wasn't sure it would be worth the ensuing argument.

"Besides," Keith continued, looking a bit sheepish, "Matt told me not to give you anymore coffee."

_Ah._ That explained it. Dammit, Matt.

Shiro sighed softly, knowing when he was defeated. Abruptly, he realized he was being awfully ungrateful, too; Keith was offering to go get him a drink from the cafeteria, which was a good few minutes' walk away, and here he was whining about caffeine. Guilt ran through him at the thought.

This day was going just great.

"Ok," Shiro relented. "Sorry, I'm just...exhausted. Thank you, Keith. I appreciate it."

Keith shot him another concerned look, but quickly looked away. "Yeah, don't mention it," he muttered, already scraping back his chair. When Shiro tried to hand him money, Keith just waved him off with a scoff, and then he was out of the room in a flash.

Shiro watched him go, tucking his wallet back into his bag. He sniffled a few times, then dug in the pocket of his hoodie for his small travel pack of tissues. He set them in his lap, pulling down the mask with one hand and tugging a tissue out with the other. Blowing his nose in public was embarrassing enough on its own; better to do it now while Keith wasn't here to see him. Of course, blowing his nose did almost nothing—his sinuses felt like they were packed with concrete. All it ended up doing was aggravating the sensitive skin there and caused him to pitch forward to sneeze a few times into the folds.

Cleaning himself up as quickly as he could, Shiro stuffed the tissues back into his pocket, his head well and truly pounding now. He pulled the computer closer to him, trying his best to actually buckle down and concentrate on the article he had pulled up, but the words kept swimming before his eyes. His throbbing head felt heavy with congestion, and he was just so _tired..._

Suddenly, someone was gently shaking him awake. Shiro picked his head up from where it was pillowed on his arms, resting on the table. He didn't even remember putting his head down.

"Hey," Keith said softly, holding a steaming drink in one hand. There was a cup by Shiro's laptop already.

Blinking quickly, Shiro sat up in his seat, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Didn't mean to fall asleep," he mumbled.

Keith dropped down into his seat, taking a sip from the drink in his hand. "I figured as much. You're exhausted, though. Don't blame you for passing out."

Shiro just nodded, wrapping both hands around the small paper cup by his computer. The warmth felt incredible; he'd been feeling cold for the past two days, no matter how many layers he put on or blankets he burrowed under. Even this stupid beanie, which Matt had convinced him to wear on his way out that morning, wasn't helping with the temperature. Slowly, he brought the cup to his lips, belatedly realizing he'd forgotten to pull his mask back up from earlier. The warmth felt good on his tender throat, though he couldn't taste a damn thing.

He made a low noise of contentment, allowing his eyes to slip closed for a moment as he reveled in the warmth.

"Good?" Keith asked, a smile in his voice. Shiro just made another noncommittal, content noise.

The sound of Keith rummaging around in his bag drew Shiro's attention, and he cracked his eyes open to see Keith laying out his own books across the desk.

Shiro frowned. "Aren't you done classes for the day?"

"Yeah," Keith answered, "but I have my own paper to start. Thought I'd get some work done too, since I'm already here."

"Oh," Shiro muttered, surprised. Keith wasn't known for sticking around campus if he didn't have any concrete reason to be there.

Cocking his head, Keith turned to look at him. "Is that a problem?" he asked, though he was smiling a bit.

"No, it's fine," Shiro responded. "As long as you don't mind sitting next to 'the literal plague'. Thanks, Matt."

Keith just laughed, the sound making Shiro temporarily forget about all the shades of awful he was currently feeling.

"Matt's a dick," he said. "But at least he cares. Sometimes."

Shiro laughed, though it dissolved into more coughing halfway through. It prompted him to tug the mask back on, wincing at it prodded at the tender skin around his nose. Keith shot him another look, but Shiro pretended not to notice, his tired eyes going back to the article staring at him from his computer.

They worked in relative silence after that. Every now and then, Keith would nudge him to remind him to drink his tea. Looks like he was serious about keeping Shiro hydrated. Despite everything, it was nice to spend this time with Keith. It'd been too long since they'd hung out, even if it was just to study or do homework. Shiro made a mental note to do hang out like this again—preferably without the schoolwork or this annoying cold.

Eventually, Keith groaned and slammed his book shut, shoving it away in frustration. "I can't look at this for another minute," he declared, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. "I'll go insane. Why did I think majoring in astrophysics was a good idea?"

Shiro couldn't help but smile a bit. "Because you're good at it," he said, clearing his throat when his voice gave out halfway through. "And you do like it."

It was true. Keith was talented—incredibly so. The things he could do when he actually applied himself were almost scary. Shiro felt a small burst of pride whenever he thought about it.

Keith, however, just groaned again. "Yeah, sure." Pulling out his phone, he made a noise of disgust. "It's seven p.m. I'm getting out of here." He looked over at Shiro, eyeing him critically. "You should pack it up, too. Get some rest."

Shiro considered it. He'd made some good progress, despite everything going twice as slow as normal. His brain felt foggy, and he'd been reading and rereading the same paragraph for the past half hour without actually absorbing any of the information. Hopefully, Matt would have fixed the router by tonight, so he could probably afford to go home and continue working there.

So he nodded, packing up his things as quickly as he could. Standing, he blinked quickly as his vision went a little spotty.

"Did you drive here?" Keith asked as soon as Shiro was on his feet.

He shook his head, transferring his bag from his right hand to his left. The prosthetic was aching now, adding to his misery. "Took the bus," he replied.

Keith's eyes went wide. "The _bus?_ Really?"

"Yeah," Shiro said. "Didn't think it'd be a great idea to take the bike while I'm...you know." He gestured to his face, hoping the _sick as a dog_ part was implied. He was definitely a traffic hazard in his current condition, and attempting to steer a motorcycle while barely being able to stay upright seemed like a bad combination.

"Oh," Keith responded. "Yeah, I guess that makes sense. I'll drive you home, then."

"What?" Now it was Shiro's turn to be shocked. "No, it's ok, I can take the bus back."

Keith put a hand on his arm. It sent electric shocks through him, despite the two layers in between his skin and Keith's hand. "Shiro. You're _sick_. You need to get home. I'll take you."

The way he said it left no room for argument. Shiro slumped under his scrutiny, caving almost immediately. It _did_ sound nice to be able to get home sooner; the bus was a good twenty minute ride, at least. Plus, the idea of being on the bus with this awful headache sounded like torture.

"Besides," Keith continued, oblivious to Shiro's internal struggle, "you look beat. You'll fall asleep on the bus and miss your stop, then what?"

Shiro tried not to wince at the words, humiliation washing over him. He knew he looked horrible, but to hear _Keith_ of all people tell him...well, it stung a bit. Even if it was true. At that moment, Shiro just wanted to be anywhere but there, embarrassing himself in front of his crush. Again.

Before he could say anything, though, the strap of his bag slipped off his shoulder. Shiro just watched as it fell, landing roughly on its side and spilling its contents in a little pile by his feet. Of course. Normally his reflexes were better than that, but his whole body felt sluggish, like he was operating underwater. Sighing, Shiro started to bend down to pick it all up, but the congestion in his head immediately pounded at his temples, reminding him of his splitting headache. He hissed a bit at the pain.

Before he could try again, Keith was kneeling on the ground, scooping up the various books and papers and carefully putting them back in Shiro's bag. When he was done, he picked the bag up and slung it over his own shoulder.

Shiro blinked, the scene finally registering in his hazy brain. "Oh, Keith, I—"

"I don't want to hear it," Keith interrupted, pinning Shiro with a glare. "I'm taking you home, I'm carrying your bag, and you can just deal with it."

Shiro bit his lip, avoiding Keith's gaze. He'd thought his embarrassment over this whole ordeal had reached its peak, but apparently not. Now he was being a burden on Keith; he couldn't even hold his own damn _bag_. He ran an agitated hand through his bangs, frustrated at his own weakness.

"Hey." A gentle hand touched his arm, and Shiro looked up. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm just..." Keith's eyes softened. "I'm worried about you."

Oh. _Oh_. Guilt and pleasant surprise rose up in Shiro's stomach; guilt at causing Keith to worry, but happy that Keith seemed to care so deeply.

Shiro tried to arrange his expression into something reassuring, which was a challenge since half of his face was covered. "I'll be fine," he said again. "Really. It's just a cold."

Keith scrutinized his face for a moment longer before nodding, taking his hand back. "Well, when you get home, go to bed. Don't open your laptop or I'll sic Matt on you."

Dammit. Shiro sighed, but relented in the end.

* * *

Matt sat up in his bed, groping blindly for his phone in the dark room. Fumbling to unlock it, he groggily took in the time: 3-something am.

_Ugh_. Curse his tiny bladder.

Slowly, Matt dragged himself out of bed, trudging as quietly as he could to the apartment's shared bathroom. Something caught his eye in the dark hallway, and he turned to see a sliver of light peeking out from under Shiro's bedroom door.

Matt had to physically hold back his groan. What was that idiot doing awake? Surely he wasn't _still_ working. Matt had fixed the router by the time Keith had dropped Shiro off that evening (looking like death warmed over), but there was absolutely no reason for Shiro to still be awake.

Turning on his heel, Matt ducked back into his own bedroom to retrieve his phone. Just because Shiro was awake, Matt wasn't going to talk to him face to face. Sure, Matt knew that if he hadn't caught whatever plague Shiro had by now, he was probably in the clear, but he didn't make it a habit to court death.

Plus, it's the twenty first century. Who needs to talk to people anymore?

On his way back to the bathroom, Matt heard faint noises coming from Shiro's room. Straining a bit to hear, he realized with a jolt that he recognized those sounds. Was that....?

Pulling the door shut behind him, Matt typed out his message to Shiro: _what are u doing up_

The response didn't come until Matt was washing his hands. _nothing_

Matt scoffed. _i can HEAR u playing minecraft wtf is wrong with u_

Pushing the bathroom door open, Matt heard the distinct sound of a block being broken in Minecraft. Then, the same sound, but much quieter, like the volume had been turned down. _am not_ , came the reply.

Rolling his eyes, Matt hovered in the hallway, deciding what to do next. His phone buzzed with another message: _can't sleep_

Matt frowned. When Keith had dropped him off that evening, Shiro had looked absolutely spent. There was no way he wouldn't have passed out the minute he went to bed.

Was he worse than he was letting on...?

Matt did groan this time, but his brain was foggy with sleep and he didn't want to deal with Shiro's bullshit right now. _u should go to the clinic tmr_

The response was immediate this time. _i'm fine_

Rolling his eyes, Matt started to make his way back to his bedroom. Sure, Shiro was fine: can't sleep and definitely getting worse, but oh yes, he's _just fine_.

Matt knew he'd have to physically drag Shiro to the clinic in order to make him go, which wasn't an appealing thought. Texting with Keith throughout the day hadn't made him feel any more reassured about Shiro's deteriorating condition, either. Shiro was still insisting it was just a cold, but Matt was having his doubts at this point. It might have started that way, but now he couldn't deny that Shiro was _sick_. At first, Matt had been resigned to sharing a space with Shiro and his germs, but as the days passed and Matt didn't catch it, he relaxed. And as the days continued to pass and Shiro didn't show any signs of improvement, Matt's concerns shifted from himself to his best friend-turned-roommate.

He closed his bedroom door behind him, flopping back ungracefully on his bed with his phone still in hand. Scrolling through his messages with Keith, he couldn't help but smile a bit at Keith's adorable crush on Shiro. Maybe he could ask Keith to help with Shiro, if he wouldn't go to the clinic willingly. Matt was not above using their stupid mutual pining as blackmail material if needed.

Well, it would have to be tomorrow-Matt's problem. Tonight-Matt was too tired to deal with it.

_don't die_ , he sent to Shiro before locking his phone and passing out.

* * *

Shiro scrubbed a hand over his face, reading Matt's last message with more than a little guilt. He really hoped he didn't wake him up.

Matt was right, of course: Shiro should be asleep. But no matter how he arranged his pillows, he couldn't find a position that let him breathe. Lying down was out of the question, but sitting up made it impossible to sleep. The congestion felt like it was weighing him down, making his chest feel tight and his head throb.

His sleep schedule was a mess when he was healthy, and he hadn't let being sick stop him from getting less than four hours sleep a night in preparation for his thesis deadline. The past few days, though, he'd been feeling bad enough that sleeping sounded like a good idea for once. The cold medicine they had usually helped to knock him out, but for the past day or so, it wasn't touching his worsening symptoms, even though tonight he'd taken close to a double dose.

He broke another block in Minecraft, letting his vision go a little fuzzy as he stopped focusing on the screen. Minecraft was nice; it was soothing and easy, and the music helped him relax a little. It was better than tossing and turning in bed, at least.

Shivering, he pulled the blanket a little tighter around himself. Ugh, he felt so, so bad. The tight feeling in his chest was bordering on pain, and breathing even while sitting up was starting to become more difficult. Despite turning the heat up in his room, he couldn't get warm, and the shaking was even beginning to affect his prosthetic. 

Shiro wasn't sure how much longer he stared at the screen before turning it off, the light from it becoming more painful than soothing to his pounding head. He switched off his TV, settling back on his bed in the vain hope he could get _some_ sleep tonight. Sighing, he turned to his phone to see what time it was—late, he knew—but before he could get there, the congestion in his chest shifted just so, and he was suddenly thrown forward with yet another coughing fit. He coughed and coughed.

And couldn't _stop_.

He was practically bent double on the bed, fingers scraping at his chest as he fought to take a breath. But he couldn't; he couldn't _breathe_. Panic set in, causing the meager breaths he could manage between hacking coughs to seem less _breathing_ and more like _hyperventilating_.

There was a sudden _bang_ of his door flying open, and before he knew it, a hand was thumping him on the back. It nearly made him choke, but it helped him catch his breath. The bed dipped as someone sat next to him, rubbing circles between his shoulder blades.

"C'mon, Shiro. Breathe."

That was...

Matt?

Shiro was abruptly reminded that he wasn't wearing his mask, and here he was, coughing everywhere with Matt _right there_. Weakly, he tried to push him away. "Matt...you'll...get sick..."

"Are you serious right now?" Matt sounded angry. "Don't _start_ with that. Are you ok?"

Before Shiro could respond, a hand pushed his bangs aside, palm resting on his forehead for a second before being quickly pulled back. "Shit, you're burning up. When did it get this bad?"

Matt's voice was shaking, though he didn't sound angry anymore. Slowly, Shiro managed to take some more shaky breaths, wiping his watery eyes with his palm. "I'll be ok," he rasped between breaths, voice cracking. Maybe if he said it enough, someone would finally believe him, even if he was starting to doubt it himself. "I just need—"

" _No,_ " Matt cut him off. Despite his sharp tone, he cupped a gentle hand to Shiro's cheek, pulling him over so their eyes met. "Your lips are _blue,_ Shiro. And you're paler than _me_."

In that moment, Matt reminded Shiro so much of his father. Dr. Holt had the same commanding tone, the same way of taking over the situation when necessary. But the fear in Matt's eyes threw off the image.

Shiro suddenly realized how bad he must look if Matt was staring at him so openly and obviously scared. Normally, Shiro would have brushed him off, given him solid assurances that he was fine, that there was nothing to worry about. But god, Shiro was just so _tired_. Tired and cold and everything _hurt_.

"Ok," Shiro relented, absently rubbing his aching chest. "What time is it? I'll go to the clinic when they open—"

"The clinic?!" Matt choked out. "Uh, no. You're putting on your jacket and I'm taking you to the emergency room."

This jolted Shiro out of his misery, if only temporarily. "What? Matt, I don't need to go to the _hospital_ —"

"No? Then why couldn't you fucking _breathe?!"_ Matt stood, and the cold look he leveled at Shiro no longer reminded him of Sam, but of a force much more dangerous.

"We're going." The force of Matt's mother was behind those two words, and Shiro knew he had lost.

* * *

Keith sighed, twirling his pen in one hand while unlocking his phone with the other. This lecture was bordering on infinity, and he felt like he was never going to be able to leave.

His phone told him two things: that he had another forty minutes of this torture, and that Shiro hadn't texted him at all that morning.

Honestly, Keith was almost happy he hadn't heard from Shiro; that meant that maybe, just maybe, he'd actually gone to bed at a reasonable hour and was still asleep. On the other hand, Keith wasn't a huge believer in miracles. He did, however, believe in the ability of Matt to threaten Shiro until he stayed in bed.

The professor said something that sounded important—something about _deadline_ and _next week_ —but Keith couldn't really bring himself to care that much. Normally he was a halfway decent student, and this was a class he usually enjoyed, but every time he tried to concentrate, his thoughts inevitably drifted back towards Shiro.

He'd looked _awful_ yesterday: tired and overworked and just plain sick. Keith wasn't much of a worrier, but Shiro had the ability to be simultaneously in control of every situation and yet unable to take care of himself. He also knew Shiro didn't sleep enough on the best of days, and this trend had probably only gotten worse with his cold.

No sooner had Keith put the phone back in his pocket that it buzzed. He grabbed it with embarrassing urgency, selfishly hoping it was Shiro.

But no: it was Matt. Keith frowned. Just _one_ message from Matt? Keith was so used to Matt's messages coming in bursts of four or five. Getting only one was...suspicious.

_hey if i tell you something will u promise not to freak out_

Keith's frowned, feeling anxiety well up inside him. _depends on what it is_

There was a pause, a good five minutes, where Keith's mind came up with worst case scenarios as to why Matt would be asking him not to freak out. Considering all of their correspondence this week (and really, at all) was about Shiro, Keith couldn't help but worry.

_do u PROMISE not to freak out_

Keith put his phone on top of his blank notebook, wiping his palms on his jeans and silently praying for patience with Matt's weirdness. _yes ok i promise what it is_

There was another pause, not as long this time. Keith could tell out of the corner of his eye that the professor was glaring at him, since he was so obviously not paying attention, but Keith didn't care. His eyes were glued to his phone. As soon as it lit up, he opened Matt's message.

_i had to take shiro to the emergency room this morning_

For a moment, Keith's brain ground to a complete halt. The blood rushed in his ears as he read and reread Matt's message. The words wouldn't make sense, the letters swimming on his phone screen.

And then it all kicked in at once.

Keith stood abruptly, scraping his chair back loudly, causing nearly everyone to look over at him. Shoving his things in his bag, he all but ran out of the classroom, ignoring the stares of the other students and the professor yelling his name. He flew through the door and left without looking back.

The half walk, half run he did to his truck felt excruciating. Tossing his bag on the seat next to him, it took a good few tries for his shaking hands to get the key in the ignition. His phone was still buzzing, with more messages from Matt presumably, but Keith could only focus on trying not to hyperventilate.

Shiro. In the hospital.

Most of the drive there was a blur, and before he knew it, Keith was swinging into the visitor parking lot. The fear in him was bordering on irrational, like he expected the absolute worst. Sure, Shiro hadn't looked well, but he'd said it was a cold. It had _seemed_ like just a cold, too. A bad one, maybe, but nothing that would put him in the hospital.

Keith's legs were trembling as he made his way out of his truck and to the front doors. His palms were sweating worse than before, and he tried to wipe them on his jeans again. What was wrong with him?

Then the smell of the hospital hit him, and so did the memory.

The last time he was in a hospital was—

_The fireman was big, his jacket still covered in soot. His face was sad as he knelt in front of Keith. "Son, your father—"_

No, no, _no._

The idea of anything even remotely close to that happening to Shiro was—

Keith's eyes burned, and it took all of his self control to not break down in front of the receptionist at the front desk.

She told Keith the room number, and he took off without waiting for the directions. It turned out to be a mistake as he got more and more lost, until he cornered an overworked nurse and blurted out the room number with no context. She glared at him, but managed to send him in the right direction.

Finally, _finally,_ Keith found himself in front of a closed door. After barely checking to make sure he was in fact at the right room, he burst in—

—to find Shiro, sitting up in the bed propped up by a few pillows, blinking tired eyes up at him in surprise.

"K-Keith?!" Shiro's bloodshot eyes went wide, and he tried to sit up a little straighter in the bed, wincing a bit when it pulled on the IV in his arm.

There was a sigh across the room, and Keith barely registered Matt's presence, sitting in a chair next to Shiro's bed. "Dude, I believe I explicitly told you _not_ to freak out..."

Shiro's head whipped around to Matt. "You told him?!"

Matt rolled his eyes. "Uh, yeah? He's been monitoring your condition for the past few days. He might as well know the conclusion to your thrilling saga of illness."

Shiro groaned, but it made him hunch in on himself as he started to cough wetly.

Keith realized he was still standing by the door, unable to move as he took in all this information. Finally, though, he was able to take a hesitant step towards Shiro's bed, one hand stretched uncertainly. Despite Matt's flippant tone, he was up and by Shiro's side instantly with a paper cup of water in his hand.

"Are you...ok?" Keith said weakly, still not sure what to be feeling.

"I'm ok," Shiro said, voice raspy and breathless. Matt scoffed next to him.

"Yeah, sure," Matt said sharply. "You have _pneumonia_ , but yeah, you're just great."

Keith's breath caught in his throat at the word. Pneumonia? Didn't people die from that?

_The big man knelt in front of Keith, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Son, your father...he didn't make it."_

_Keith blinked at the man. He seemed familiar, but Keith didn't know his name. "Where is he?" he asked, not understanding. "Where's my dad?"_

_The man winced, placing another large hand on Keith's other shoulder. "He's gone."_

"Isn't that....bad?" Keith asked dumbly, still caught up in something between fear and shock.

Shiro opened his mouth to respond, but Matt cut him off. "No, you don't get to talk. You just sit there and drink your water and focus on breathing without dying."

Matt handed him the paper cup, which Shiro took without complaint. He sipped it slowly, an embarrassed flush dusting his pale cheeks.

Matt sighed. "The doctor said he's gonna be fine. They have him on some hefty antibiotics, but he can go home in a few hours. We're just waiting for the all clear. He'll make a full recovery assuming he _actually rests_."

Keith took another uncertain step forward. "How did it get this bad?"

Matt glared at Shiro, who had the decency to look sheepish. "This is what happens when you get sick and don't sleep and then work yourself into the ground. Let this be a lesson, Keith: Shiro is not a good role model."

Shiro was actually pouting at this point. "I didn't _mean_ for it to get this bad..."

Matt rolled his eyes. Keith was slowly thawing, the information finally making its way to his brain. "So....you're gonna be ok?"

Shiro offered him a tired smile. "Yeah, I am. Sorry I made you come all the way over here. Don't you have class right now?"

"Aw, man, I didn't know you were in _class_ ," Matt groaned. "You should have read the rest of my messages, man."

“You shouldn’t have even messaged him in the first place,” Shiro said, exasperated. 

Matt threw his hands up in the air. “So now everything’s _my_ fault?”

“Of course not. But you shouldn’t have pulled him out of class.”

“Well, sorry I don’t have everyone’s schedules memorized. Look, I didn’t mean to pull him out of class, ok? But I _told_ him not to freak out. If he’d just—”

"None of that _matters_ right now!" Keith exploded, balling his hands into fists at his side. "You told me Shiro was in the _hospital_ , and I....I..."

There were tears welling his eyes; frustrated, angry, _relieved_ tears. He let him fall, not caring how it made him look.

"Whoa," Matt breathed softly. He stepped around Shiro's bed, hands half outstretched. "Keith—"

Keith angrily wiped the tears away, meeting Shiro's shocked eyes. "How could you _let this happen?!_ ” he yelled. It was too much, it was all _too much_. “How could you be so reckless?! This is your _health_ , Shiro! What if Matt hadn't been there? What if—"

Keith couldn't bring himself to finish that sentence. A soft sob escaped him, and he buried his face in his hands. God, he couldn't do this. The hospital was putting him on edge as it was, memories of his father's death threatening to overwhelm him. The idea of losing Shiro here, no matter how ridiculous it felt now, was unbearable.

"Keith..."

Keith looked up from his hands, tears still blurring his vision, to see Shiro's pained face. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I'm so sorry I made you worry."

Matt dropped his hands, sighing again. "I'm gonna...go get a coffee...or six." He stepped around Keith, shaking his head slightly. Keith could just barely make out his muttering something about how he "didn't get paid enough to deal with these idiots."

There was silence for a moment after Matt left, only broken by Shiro's congested breathing. Keith looked away, breath still hitching with emotion. "I was just....I was _worried_ about you."

Shiro flinched a little. "I'm sorry," he said again.

Keith shook his head, walking over and taking Matt's seat. "My father died a hospital when I was ten," he said abruptly. "They make me nervous now."

Shiro made a soft, shocked noise. "Oh—Keith, I didn't know, I'm so sor–"

Keith waved him off before he could finish. "Of course you didn't know. I didn't tell you." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He was aware of the heat on his face, leftover from crying, and now all he felt was a deep embarrassment.

But he when he looked up, he saw Shiro staring at him with obvious concern.

_Dammit_. This wasn't supposed to be about him.

"How are you feeling, anyway?" Keith finally asked. "Pneumonia sounds pretty rough."

Shiro chuckled a bit, the sound deep and congested-sounding. "Yeah. The doctor said it was bacterial pneumonia. Probably picked it up because my immune system was working on that cold." Shiro shrugged, the action far too casual for Keith's liking. "Shit happens, I guess. I'm just glad it's not as contagious."

"Yeah, probably because you _didn't sleep_ this week," Keith pointed out. "And being happy at _bacterial pneumonia_ isn't normal, you know."

Shiro winced. Then he sighed softly, brows furrowing. "Matt talked to Sam for me about my thesis. They're extending the deadline, since...." He vaguely gestured to the IV, steadily pumping those antibiotics into him.

"Good," Keith said. "At least Matt is good for something."

Shiro leaned back into the pillows, finally seeming to relax since Keith's arrival. "He did drive me here, too. I guess I gave him a bit of a scare when I almost passed out in his car."

Keith shot him a dry look. "Gee, I wonder why."

Shiro looked away, face flushing again in embarrassment. It made Keith hyper aware of how pale he was. "I should really apologize to him."

Keith hummed in agreement, sitting back in the chair. He made a mental note to thank Matt for his service at keeping Shiro alive. Not an easy task, it turns out.

"So, how are you feeling?" _You don't get to dodge my question that easily, Shirogane_.

Shiro looked back toward Keith, absently running a hand over his chest. "Not great, honestly. But better than this morning." He leaned his head back against the pillows propped up behind him, eyes closing. "I'm just....really tired."

Keith isn't sure what came over him, in that moment, but he reached a hand out to cup Shiro's cheek. The warmth of Shiro's persistent fever pressed into his palm, and Shiro leaned into the touch, eyes still closed. Keith felt the remains of his anxiety drain at the scene: Keith's hand softly touching Shiro's cheek, which was just a little bit rough with barely there stubble. It felt so _domestic_ , and it made Keith's heart swell in his chest.

This was all he wanted with Shiro. These soft, stolen moments. Because even with his hair a mess, his face still a shade too pale, and in that garish hospital gown....Keith couldn't see himself being with anyone else. He couldn't remember the last time he'd ever felt this strongly about anyone. Shiro was the one person Keith wanted to hang on to. Forever, if he could.

Shiro sighed softly, cracking his eyes open a bit to look at Keith again. "So you're really skipping class now, huh?" he asked jokingly.

"Shut up, it's your fault," Keith snapped, but he smiled at him. Shiro's eyes fluttered closed again. Keith went to take his hand back, but before he could, Shiro brought his hand up to cover Keith's.

There was a flash of something in the corner of Keith's eye, and he turned toward the door to see a head of brown hair disappear around the corner of the doorframe. Not a moment later, Keith's phone buzzed. With his free hand, he fished it out of his pocket.

_have u two confessed your undying love yet_

Keith scoffed at the message.

_i heard that_

_don't sass me young man_

_plz get it over with_

_i can't handle you two pining for each other for eternity_

Keith's eyes widened at the messages. Could this mean...?

His gaze flickered back up to Shiro, back to where their hands were joined. Slowly, without breaking the contact, Keith lowered their hands so they were resting on the bed. He shifted their fingers a bit so they were intertwined. "Shiro, I...."

Keith hesitated, biting his lip. How was he supposed to do this? How was he supposed to tell Shiro the feelings that were brewing in the depths of his heart?

He looked back up to Shiro's face—only to find his head leaning to the side, eyes closed. Asleep.

Disappointment tinged with relief flooded through him. He'd been so, so close. So close to spilling his heart out. To potentially ruining their friendship, which was the most precious thing he had.

But these feelings were like a hurricane, and they threatened to rip him apart.

So Keith brought their joined hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to Shiro's hand.

"I love you," Keith said softly. Tears burned at his eyes, but they didn't fall this time.

"I love you so much."

* * *

The next few days passed in a bit of a haze for Keith.

Shiro was discharged from the hospital quickly enough, with strict orders to keep taking his antibiotics and get enough rest. Matt promised to continue his long suffering vigil to make sure Shiro actually adhered to the instructions. Keith wanted to help, too, but he couldn't figure out how without feeling like he was intruding.

So in the days that followed Shiro's hospitalization, Keith did his best to stay out of the way. He knew the last thing Shiro would want was anyone hovering around him while he recovered. But Keith found that, no matter how hard he tried to concentrate on the book in front of him or whatever class he was in at the time, his thoughts always drifted back toward Shiro.

It was beginning to drive Keith a little insane. He'd heard little from Matt and even less from Shiro, and he decided it probably wouldn't hurt to stop by their apartment. What was the worst that could happen?

And that's how he found himself sitting in his truck in front of Matt and Shiro's building, silently working up the courage to go up to the door.

This was so stupid. It was just Shiro, for fuck's sake. They'd been friends for years now. There was no reason he should feel _nervous_ to see him. How many times have they had late night study sessions, holed up in Shiro's room? How many movie nights and TV marathons and video game sessions had he spent there, drinking cheap beer and eating Matt's cooking? How many times had Keith pressed just a little bit closer to Shiro on the battered couch, testing the waters with how close he could get before it was weird, with his heart pounding so hard in his chest he thought everyone in the building would be able to hear it—

Shaking his head, he smacked his palm against the steering wheel. This was so stupid.

Finally, he took a deep breath and pushed the door open, hopping down out of his truck. He made his way up to the front door as quickly as he could, pushing the button next to the _Holt-Shirogane_ tab without needing to look.

" _Yeah?"_ came Matt's slightly annoyed voice.

Keith cleared his throat. "It's me," he said, managing to sound like a mostly normal human being.

" _Oh, about time,_ " Matt responded. The door buzzed open without any further preamble.

Keith took the stairs two at a time, trying not to dissect Matt's response too much. He made it to their door in record time, not bothering to knock.

Matt was standing by the stove, a pink apron tied around his waist. He turned, and Keith saw that the apron sported two pieces of toast holding hands with cute expressions and Japanese words running above them. Keith had asked Shiro a number of times what the words meant, and his answer was different every time.

Waving a wooden spoon in greeting, Matt nodded his head toward the hallway. "He might be asleep, just so you know. That's basically all he's been doing since we got home."

"Oh," Keith muttered, already taking a half step back. "Should I go?"

"God, no," Matt responded, rolling his eyes. "I just hope you brought a book or something. Anyway, if you're hungry I ended up making way too much soup, so feel free to stick around until dinner."

Keith raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You're making soup?"

Matt sighed, a long suffering sound. "We were both tired of rice. So yeah, soup."

Keith couldn't help but chuckle a bit, waving to Matt before making his way to Shiro's room. He knocked softly, and when he didn't get a response, opened the door as quietly as possible.

Shiro was curled up on his side, wrapped in two blankets. Keith could hear the soft, congested snoring from the door. He closed it behind him as gently as he could, making his way over to the bed. On the nightstand next to the bed was a cup and a bottle of dark liquid.

Up close, he saw how Shiro's face was slack with sleep, though there was still the faint pink fever flush dusting his cheeks. It was better than the awful, pale complexion he'd had at the hospital. Keith put one knee on the bed as he leaned forward, careful not to jostle Shiro, and put the back of his hand on his forehead, sweeping his white bangs aside. Warm, but not terribly so. It seemed he was actually starting to get better. Keith let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

Suddenly, Shiro stirred, his breathing changing slightly. Keith backpedaled, trying not to disturb him, but Shiro's flesh arm landed on the leg that was still resting on the bed. His eyes cracked open a bit, and he looked up at Keith with a soft smile. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," Keith said. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."

Shiro hummed a bit, using the arm on Keith's leg to pull himself closer. "Didn't wake me. What's up?"

He sounded better—better than a few days ago, at least—but his voice was still shredded. "Just checking up on you. I can go."

Shiro made a quiet noise of distress. "Stay," he said simply.

Keith's heart felt like it was going to break out of his chest. "You want me to stay?"

Nodding, Shiro looked up at him through his bangs. "Only if...you want to," he said, tired eyes slipping shut again.

"Oh," Keith said dumbly. He crawled onto the bed so he was sitting against the wall, legs stretched out. "Yeah...'course I want to."

Shiro hummed again, sounding happy this time. He scooted closer to Keith and somehow ended up with his head in Keith's lap. Not that Keith minded. He rested one hand on Shiro's back, curling around his shoulders, while the other carded his fingers through Shiro's hair.

Nuzzling into Keith's hand, Shiro sighed, a content sound. Keith couldn't help but smile.

Shiro looked up suddenly, causing Keith to pause with his hand still tangled in Shiro's hair. "Did...did you mean it?"

"Mean what?" Keith responded, using the new position of his hand to scratch Shiro's scalp gently. His eyes went half lidded in pleasure. _Just like a puppy_ , he couldn't help but think.

"At the hospital," Shiro continued. "When you said you loved me."

Keith choked, his hand jerking back from where it was on Shiro's head. His eyes were wide, and he could feel the hot flush of embarrassment flood his cheeks. "You—you heard that?"

Shiro smiled a small, guilty smile. "Yeah. Sorry."

Keith buried his face in his hands, absolutely mortified. "I thought you were asleep," he mumbled. If he had known Shiro was awake.....oh god, what had he _done?_ A single moment of weakness had caused Keith to potentially tank his friendship with the man he loved. Would he be able to play it off as a joke? Or a stress-induced moment of insanity? Or—

"Hey," Shiro said softly, lifting himself up and sitting up beside Keith. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

Keith looked up from his hands to see Shiro's mouth twist unhappily, one hand half outstretched, like he wasn't sure what to do. And there was something in his eyes, some mix of disappointment and sadness, that Keith wanted to soothe away.

This had been burning a hole in his chest for so long. It was time to own up to his feelings.

"Yeah. Yeah I did," Keith said softly, looking away and twisting his hands in the blankets on the bed. Even if this sudden surge of courage was still coursing through him, he couldn't bear to look Shiro in the eye. Not if there was a chance of seeing rejection there. "But if....if it makes you uncomfortable, or freaked out, or whatever, we can just forget about it. Nothing has to change or—"

"Keith," Shiro said softly, and _god_ if his name didn't sound so good on Shiro's lips. Lifting his head, he saw Shiro looking at him with an emotion Keith couldn't quite process. "It's ok. I'm not uncomfortable, or freaked out, or anything. I'm so....I'm so _relieved._ "

Keith stared at him, heart pounding a bruise in his chest. Wait...could this mean....?

The flush across Shiro's cheeks grew deeper. "I just—" But the rest of his sentence was cut off as Shiro started to cough, hunching in around the blankets that had pooled at his waist.

Whatever Keith was feeling was put on hold in that moment. He couldn't forget that Shiro was still recovering from _pneumonia_ , for god's sake.

The fit didn't last very long, but Keith rubbed Shiro's back through it, feeling the muscles convulse under his hand. It tapered off soon enough, though he didn't miss Shiro's wince as he caught his breath.

"Are you ok? You shouldn't push yourself," Keith said, helping Shiro lean back against the pillows.

Shiro sighed softly, this time sounding frustrated. "Sorry. I'm ok." The words came out softly, his voice weak after the fit. "Kind of a mood killer though, huh?"

Keith shook his head. "That doesn't matter." He reached over to the nightstand to snag the cup, feeling the slosh of water inside. He handed it to Shiro. "Drink slowly," he ordered.

"Yes, doctor," Shiro quipped, and Keith felt his flush flare up anew. Shiro's eyes sparked with mirth as he slowly drained the cup.

Keith took it from him when he was done, placing it back on the nightstand. "How are you feeling, anyway?" he asked when it seemed like Shiro's breathing was back to normal. Or as normal as possible, under the circumstances.

Shiro shrugged, heading lolling back to rest against the wall. "Tired, mostly. And cold."

Keith nodded. "You still have a fever."

"The doctor said it would probably linger for a while," Shiro responded, closing his eyes. "Just really sick of coughing, honestly."

Keith made a sympathetic noise. "At least you're actually sleeping. That was a rare sight."

Shiro cracked an eye open, mouth twitching into a half smile, half smirk. "Yeah. The cough syrup Matt got me really knocks me out. Because, as he says, 'you can't cough if you're in a coma'."

Keith barked a laugh. "That sounds about right."

Shiro sighed. "I've put him through a lot this week. I tried to apologize to him, but he threatened to break my laptop if I said I was sorry one more time. He's been a really good friend." He turned his head toward Keith. "So have you."

The word _friend_ pounded in his head, and Keith swallowed around his suddenly dry throat. But Shiro had said—

"But," Shiro continued, turning more fully towards Keith, "I would really like to be....more...than friends with you."

Keith's breath caught in his throat, eyes wide as he absorbed the words.

"I love you, Keith," Shiro said, and though his voice was raspy from illness, Keith wanted to lock the sound of those words in his heart forever. "I have for a long time. But I never thought you'd feel the same way about me. I'm sorry it took all of this for me to finally tell you, but...."

Keith raised a hand, putting against Shiro's cheek. "I love you, too....Takashi."

Shiro's eyes widened at the sound of his proper name, but then his face relaxed into a tired, beautiful smile. "That sounds....really nice."

Keith leaned in a bit, shifting his body toward Shiro. Shiro instinctively copied the movement, but when Keith made a move to capture his lips, Shiro ducked out of the way. Before the sting of rejection could set in, Shiro said, "I'm still sick, you know. Let's not tempt fate."

_Ah_. Of course. Keith sighed, dejected, but was undeterred. So instead, he put both hands on either side of Shiro's face, pulling him down and placing a gentle, chaste kiss on Shiro's still warm forehead. "How's that?" Keith asked softly.

"G-good." Keith felt Shiro swallow. "It's.....it's good."

"Good," Keith said. "You're probably still pretty tired though, right?"

Shiro nodded, face still captured between Keith's hands. Keith rearranged them so Shiro was leaning into Keith's chest. Keith pulled the blankets around Shiro's shoulders, noticing how he was starting to shiver.

Placing another kiss to the top of Shiro's head, Keith started to once again card his fingers through his hair. "Go back to sleep then, Shiro. I'll wake you when Matt's done with the soup."

Shiro made a soft noise of assent, already half asleep. "This isn't...a dream, right?" he asked sleepily. "You're really here?"

"I'm here," Keith said firmly. "For as long as you want me."

Shiro nuzzled into Keith's chest, breathing evening out as he fell asleep.

And that's how Matt found them a few hours later, a tray with two bowls in his hands. Keith looked up from his phone, with Shiro still sound asleep against him, to see Matt in the doorway, a smug grin on his face.

"Well, it's about damn time."

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for: hospital stay, death of a parent in flashbacks
> 
> Thanks for reading! Comments and constructive criticism are appreciated and encouraged :)
> 
> Check me out on [Tumblr](https://shirocomplex.tumblr.com/)!


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